


Time Waits for No Man, but Death on the other hand...

by SherlockMalfoy



Series: my harry potter crackfics & unfinished tales [14]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Afterlife, Gen, Harry Potter as Death, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:54:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27535594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SherlockMalfoy/pseuds/SherlockMalfoy
Summary: Gellert is dead. He knows he's dead. He's alone with his thoughts. And then, he isn't.
Series: my harry potter crackfics & unfinished tales [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1149425
Comments: 4
Kudos: 57





	Time Waits for No Man, but Death on the other hand...

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by the following prompt on tumblr:  
>  _You underwent a full villain’s journey, became a demon lord and destroyed the world. Now you intend to go back in time and save it from yourself because you unwittingly unleashed something worse than you ever were._
> 
> While it doesn't meet the prompt exactly, it did at least give me the plotbunny that spawned this thing.
> 
> [Here's the prompt link if you'd like to fill it yourself.](https://writing-prompt-s.tumblr.com/post/634603182572650496)

There were many turning points in his life.

Not that he ever took them that is.

Now that he had the time to think about it – not that he could do much else in this empty place but think or stare at the strange scarlet train that just... sat there mocking him – he really should have paid closer attention to the fact the gods themselves took time out of their busy and omnipotent lives to keep giving him omens that he was on the wrong track.

And now.....

Here he sat, glaring at that scarlet engine that was the only other dot of color in this place aside from himself. Mocking him with it's inexplicable appearance.

He was dead. He knew he was dead.

There was no doubt about that now.

"Well... Time waits for no man," said an eerily cheerful voice as the bench beside him was filled just as inexplicably as the appearance of the train. "But Death on the other hand..." said the cheerful voice.

This caused him to turn and look at the one who had dared interrupt his thoughts. It was a young man. He looked rather thin, his cheeks a bit hollow and his hands scarred. The skin looked to be stretched tightly over them, as if an unnatural creature were wearing human skin without the cushioning of meat and tissue between the bone and flesh.

He looked the boy – for that is what this thing looked like – over. He wore torn denim trousers. An oversized shirt and had crooked glasses perched upon his nose. His dark hair was wild and seemed to have a mind of its own. Yet those eyes... Those haunting green eyes seemed filled with... "Does my death amuse you, boy?"

The boy's cheerful disposition dropped the instant the final word rolled off his tongue. A bony hand clutched his throat as anger replaced the amusement in those bright green eyes. "Never call me that word again if you wish to escape the vile fate that awaits you if you take that train."

He was released, and the rage poured off the deceptively strong creature. The man clutched at his throat, finding it sore. He could feel a small raised ridge outlining where the hand had touched his flesh. As if the touch of the creature had seared him. He could, however, find that speech was still a thing he was capable of. "Where... where does it go?"

"On," the creature that looked like a young man said nonchalantly. "I suppose."

They sat in silence for a long moment before he ventured to ask another question. "Why are... why are you here?"

"To make you an offer I doubt you could refuse," the creature said, once more adopting a cheerful disposition. "Time, the impatient bitch, waits for no man. But Death, you see... I don't mind waiting if it means I get something out of the deal." And he snapped his fingers. And a second train appeared opposite the platform from the scarlet train. One in bright red with gaudy gold trimmings. From here he could see what appeared to be the shapes of animals cast in gold against the blindingly red backdrop.

"What do you want of me.... Death?"

The creature stood and smiled, and it was then the man saw a sort-of shimmer in the air. The not-boy's clothes and appearance changed. He was still the strange creature in a stretched too-tight human skin, with hollow cheeks and bright green eyes and messy black hair but... at the same time... he was ancient and forever. And a sort of hissing sound came from his mouth that it took the man a few moments to understand were words.

"I wish for you to go back," Death said as his strange clothes became a more traditional style of wizarding robes. Black, of course. He was Death after all. "I have been given permission to do whatever it takes to repair your body and return you to life in order to complete a very important task."

"And what is that?"

"What do you know of the world outside your prison cell before your murder?"

"Not much. Only what my friend would tell me when he visited once a year."

"So you do not recognize my face?"

"Should I?"

Death chuckled to himself and shook his head. "Oh Albus.... always with your little secrets. Your little collars and chains and strings...." it said and the man could almost hear a fondness to the words. "Always controlling people; manipulating them like puppets for your so called Greater Good."

The man detected the loathing in his voice before the cruel, strange smile and cheerfulness returned. "Well, that aside," Death said. "Your life's work laid the groundwork for one of the darkest, most sinister dark lords to ever walk the Earth. A dark lord that hid in plain sight and no one ever suspected until it was far too late to do anything about it. What he did, the damage he caused, rippled outward from Magical Britain for decades. It gave rise to three wars, two of which he was personally responsible for, ultimately leading to the extermination of all wizard kind."

"So you're to send me back? What am I to do from a damned prison cell?!"

Death shook his head and laughed. IT was a horrible, nightmarish sound. He laid a hand upon the man's shoulder and gripped tight, bony fingers digging through the tattered cloth of his prison robes. He pulled the man to his feet and led him to the bright red train.

Upon closer inspection, the animals – two deer, an otter, two dogs, a bear, a rabbit, and a wolf – all looked monstrous. Golden cast bones poking through golden fur and flesh. Half-rotted in appearance as they frolicked against the bright red background of the train's paint.

"You're not going back to your cell. I'm sending you.... elsewhen. Your task when you arrive, Mr. Grindlewald, is to take charge of your younger self and prevent him from meeting Albus Dumbledore."

"What? Why?!"

"Because Albus Dumbledore has done more damage to all of existence than you could possibly ever know. And it was your influence that put him on that bloody, twisted path. If the pair of you never meet, he never becomes obsessed with becoming the Master of Death. He never defeats you and gains fame and power from that famous duel. Without the fame and power, he will never be in a position to manipulate the law into giving him even more power and prestige. Without that, he never becomes headmaster of Hogwarts. He never starts two wars which culminate in a third wherein a poor, orphaned child who was raised for the sole purpose of killing Albus Dumbledore's greatest enemy doesn't lose his fucking mind and begin slaughtering the entire wizarding world just so he can get a single moment's peace from his own fame and admirers."

"Albus is responsible for all of that?!"

Death nodded. "He did all of it, as he would often say, for the Greater Good. And it was YOU that instilled that in him. So it's YOU that gets to clean it up. It's not that I don't like this job, because honestly it's so bloody peaceful most of the time. But I miss being alive and having treacle tart. I know if you succeed I probably wouldn't even exist, but I'm pretty much willing to take non-existence over the fact that everything tastes like soot, blood and charcoal at this point. Now, off you go, Mr. Grindlewald!"

And with that, the man was shoved through the open door of the train. The door slammed shut before he could get to his feet. "Oh! And one more thing!" Death shouted at him from the other side. "You're not allowed to kill Albus or tell anyone other than your younger self that you're dead and from the future!"

The train gave a mighty toot and started to pull from the station.

Gellert Grindlewald climbed to his feet, bracing himself against a wall as he tried his best to look out the window into the empty white expanse. He could see Death still on the platform, waving at the train and smiling.


End file.
